


Selcouth

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Series: Logolepsy- an obsession with words [8]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Immortal Fake AH Crew, M/M, Nonverbal Ryan Haywood, Surprise! - Freeform, and i agree wholeheartedly, drawy-things on tumblr has a hc that the vagabond is like 6'7, implied - Freeform, it's not really important to the story but it's important to mw, this series isn't entirely legends based!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 23:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: Selcouth-adj.unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous





	Selcouth

The Vagabond was a god damn mystery.

He showed up one day after Ramsey reached out for some extra muscle on a rough heist. He showed up at their warehouse, all 6’7 of him cloaked in black leather and a skull mask. He didn’t speak- he just let Ramsey talk and answered with nods and gestures. A handgun was visible in his waistband, but there was a machine gun in his gloved hand. Behind the mask, two eyes glowed, blue and green shining in the light.

Gavin was immediately intrigued.

He moved like oil, fluid and graceful when he fought. As soon as they were off the battlefield, that changed. When they dropped him off, he almost always stumbled, or when he came to the penthouse, he hit his shoulder on the doorframe, without fail. He walked into tables, wandered into walls, and fumbled and dropped most anything. But, whenever they were working, he turned into an elegant creature, never missing a shot and never messing up.

No matter what, the mask stayed on.

He kept working with them more and more, and he became less and less of an enigma. He drank enough diet coke to embalm a small animal and brought kolaches and doughnuts whenever they had a long day of planning ahead of themselves. Eventually, he had all but formally joined the crew.

After the eighth heist, he finally joined.

Four months later, the mask got hung up except for jobs. Underneath was messily neat paint. Red over his eyes and forehead, white over the rest, black marking out a skull over his gaunt face. His hair was like oil, dark and greasy and pulled into a perpetually matted ponytail. His roots were growing in, a solid inch of a muddled blonde near his scalp. He never seemed to redye it, but his roots always stayed at the same level.

Over time, the Vagabond became more human, more real, less of a creature that went bump in the night, less of a boogeyman. He became Ryan.

Gavin just got more intrigued.

He started asking Ryan inane questions more and more frequently, more often than he asked the other crew members. He would knock on Ryan’s door and sit with him while the older man cleaned his guns. He would spar with him, even though it meant getting his ass kicked time and time again. He did his makeup alongside Ryan whenever he put on his face paint.

Everyone always asked why. Why did Gavin choose to hang out with the person most likely to put a bullet between his eyes? Why hang out with the man who could break him in two? Why the man who tortures for fun and laughs as he throws grenades at cops and civilians? Why Ryan?

Gavin had one answer.

Ryan, the Vagabond, was marvelous. He was the most interesting person he had encountered in his ten years in crime and his hundreds of years alive (this line always accompanied by a shout from Michael and a faint “sorry boi!”). He was wonderful. He was one of Gavin’s favorite people, even if he didn’t understand him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm bimonlewis on Tumblr! Come hit me up!


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